<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>faith by BriSavage</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381514">faith</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriSavage/pseuds/BriSavage'>BriSavage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, this is me working out my traumas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:47:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriSavage/pseuds/BriSavage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What I felt Xander’s head looks like after his meeting with Faith in the episode “The Zeppo”</p><p>With my own twist, of course.</p><p>—<br/>This is mainly just me working through my traumas, one character that I project heavily on to at a time</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Xander Harris/Faith Lehane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>faith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had happened in quick succession. First, he had saved Faith. Next, he was shoved on his back on the mold-encrusted, stain ridden bed while she was saying that she would <em> show him around the curves </em>, or some such. </p><p> </p><p>15 minutes later he was shoved out the door with nothing but his boxers and his torn-and-pissed-on dignity. His heart beat had probably been loud enough to alert the vampires in LA and <em> what about that, huh? Being used - thrown out to the wolves? Does it hurt? Or were you expecting this? </em></p><p> </p><p>He had. </p><p> </p><p>Not the actual - thing, no, would’ve never thought that Faith, slayer extraordinaire, would ever even contemplate…</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What? Having sex with you? Fucking you? Making crazy monkey love on her - frankly disgusting - motel bed? If you’re going to even entertain these thoughts, Xander, you’re going to have to think these words.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Having sex with him. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t had the chance to explain - tell Faith that <em> no, I don’t want this, i don’t want you, </em> and that <em> yeah my preferences don’t swing this way, I prefer humans of the masculine persuasion.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Not that she would’ve cared. </p><p> </p><p>Now he was laying on his bed, staring at the off-colored alabaster ceiling in his parents house thinking, <em> why? Why the hell had she done that? Was that it, was I some quick fuck to help her get off? Does it even </em> <b> <em>matter?</em> </b> </p><p> </p><p>And that thought had slammed him to a screeching halt. </p><p> </p><p>Did it matter? I helped her, she…</p><p> </p><p>Used me. </p><p> </p><p>He’d blamed himself, to begin with. To think that a - <em> slayer </em> - would want his help. Why would she? It’s not like Xander was any strong. <em> Useless </em>, his brain supplied helpfully. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t exactly disagree. </p><p> </p><p>Sure, he was helpful. Helpful in the way he picked up doughnuts and coffee for the <em> scoobies </em> , and, hell, was he even a part of them anymore? Could he say that <em> yeah, I help save the world! I AM better than what my parents believe me to be.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Wishful thinking, that is. </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t help much that, after pretty much coming out and saying that <em> yeah, me and Faith had sex, and I didn’t exactly say yes but, ya know, it’s not a big deal or anything, </em> withought so much as a horrified gasp from Willow or a <em> “holy shit, Xander, are you okay?” </em> or a <em> “My goodness,” </em>from Giles, he had, stupidly, volunteered to talk to Faith.</p><p> </p><p>His suggestion was quickly shut down. </p><p> </p><p>Regardless, he went anyway. <em> No one ever said I was smart, </em> he inanely thought. <em> Maybe that’s why I always end up in these ridiculous situations.  </em></p><p> </p><p>And then Faith was on him, <em> grinding </em> on him, and had made to push her away, until she had taken him by the throat and <em> squeezed </em> . Desperate gasps of air and <em> please please no more please </em> ‘til black spots clouded his vision. </p><p> </p><p>Next thing he saw was Angel, helping him, getting her <em> off </em> of him, and thanked any and every god above him that he was <em> okay </em> , that he wasn’t <em> dead </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Wasn’t that a comforting thought? That he had to thank gods who he - frankly - didn’t even believe in that he was <em> alive </em> ? <em> Only on the hellmouth, </em>he supposed. </p><p> </p><p>He thought of the horrified faces, the sympathetic glances toward his neck, and the shocked gasps as he walked into the library, Angel in tow. </p><p> </p><p><em> Guess I’ll have to buy a scarf, </em> his brain supplied for him to say. </p><p> </p><p>What really came out was a choked-off whimper. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>